Posts Tagged ‘magi’

Subverting power – the wise ones

January 3, 2026

Epiphany – 2026

Matthew 2:1-12

 Marian Free

In the name of God who taught us that true power lies in vulnerability, that real influence lies in empowering others and that true victory is sometimes disguised as defeat. Amen.

It’s all about power – who has it and who wants it.

The curiosity of the visitors from the east and their desire to see the child for themselves, the mystery and miracle of the star and the gifts pregnant with symbolism  all distract us from the competition for power and the underlying sense of menace which permeates the story of Epiphany. We are blinded by our wonder at the mysterious strangers travelling from far away to worship the one whom we know to be the Christ. For us, their visit provides the definitive sign that the child whom they seek  is the one promised by the prophets of old. Yet there is still a sense of foreboding. Something tells us that this story will not end well.

Indeed, Matthew’s account of the visit of the magi sets the tone for the whole gospel and prepares the reader for Jesus’ crucifixion.

In each gospel a sword hangs over Jesus’ head almost from the moment of his birth. In Luke Simeon declares: “This child is destined for the falling and the rising of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be opposed  so that the inner thoughts of many will be revealed—and a sword will pierce your own soul too.” Mark has barely begun the story of a Jesus when he reports that Jesus’ ministry was so controversial that: “The Pharisees went out and immediately conspired with the Herodians against him, how to destroy him, from that moment they looked for an opportunity to kill him.”

Matthew sets the scene quite differently, but the the threat is the same. By naming Jesus as a future king within the very halls of power in Jerusalem, the strangers from the East alert us to the conflict that will ensue between the earthly and the heavenly powers and lead to Jesus’ death.

Jesus is born into a volatile political situation. In his corner of the Empire, Herod’s position as Tetrarch of Galilee is entirely dependent on the goodwill of Caesar, his ability to prove his loyalty and on his ability to keep the local population under control. Life was no less precarious for the citizens of Palestine. Herod’s grip on power was maintained by violently quelling any opposition and by making a public example of trouble-makers by crucifixion. Those who held power as political appointees  – including the priests and the scribes – were, in turn, dependent on their being seen to support Herod.

What is more, the stability of the nation as a whole depended Herod’s ability to assert his dominance over the populace. An insurrection would have threatened not only Herod’s grip on power but also the security of the nation. Were there to be a popular uprising not only would Herod would be swiftly deposed but the Roman army would be sent in to brutally suppress the rebels. As a consequence, it did not matter how much the people resented the power of Rome, many of them feared direct intervention even more. Keeping the peace was the order  of the day.

It is not surprising then that the news of another, rival king  filled not only Herod, but all Jerusalem with fear.

Each gospel tells the story of Jesus’ origins in a slightly different way. Matthew emphasizes the fulfillment of Old Testament prophecy. Five times in the first two chapters Matthew writes that: “this was to fulfill the scriptures”. (This means that we cannot be entirely sure of the historicity of the events that Matthew recounts.) Even so, deliberately or not, what Matthew does in the account of the magi is to expose the conflict that exists and which will intensify between the worldly idea and practice of power, and the heavenly notion and exercise of power.

The visit of mysterious strangers from the east, exposes the way in which the in-breaking of God’s kingdom into the world will subvert the earthly concepts of power and control, how this subversion will increasingly bring Jesus into conflict with the authorities and will ultimately cost him his life.

It’s all about power – how to gain it and how to hold on to it OR about letting it go and gaining it all the same.

According to Matthew the magi boldly, shamelessly and possibly naively inform Herod that a rival king has been born. Herod can only think of a King in the worldly sense- one who would unite the people, raise up an army and challenge the authority of Rome. The possibility that such a person might have been born fills Herod with dread. If the child were allowed to live Herod would certainly lose face, if not now then when the child grew up. News of the birth of a king might unite Judeans behind him even before he is old enough to lead and army.  

What Herod cannot imagine and what causes conflict nonetheless is the the ways in which this child will subvert conventional notions of power.

It begins with his birth. Jesus is born outside of the centre of power and with none of its trappings- wealth, subjects, servants, an army – nothing that would distinguish him or would enable him to impose his will on the people. As he matures and begins his ministry, Jesus continues to subvert and redefine the usual expectations of kingship. He refuses to take advantage of his divinity to benefit himself; rather than lord it over his followers, he devolves his power to them – gives them the ability to heal, to cast out demons and to teach. He will earn the loyalty of his followers and not impose it, he will empower, not disempower others and at the end he will submit to the earthly authorities rather than call on the angels to defend him.

It is easy to be seduced by the powers of this world – riches, status, and influence.To be seduced is to buy into a way of being that contradicts the values of the kingdom. Jesus practices resistance – seeking nothing and ultimately gaining everything. This is our call – to show by example that society does not have to be built on competitiveness, that we gain more by generosity than by protectionism and that it is more satisfying and productive to build others up than it is to pull them down.

This may lead to misunderstanding, confusion and even conflict, but by living kingdom values now we will be ready for the kingdom when it comes in its fulness.

 

 

 

 

 

Following a star – taking risks

January 4, 2025

Epiphany – 2025

Matthew 2:1-12

Marian Free

In the name of God, tantalisingly mysterious, and always out of reach. Amen.

“If the wise men gave Jesus gold, why was he poor?” This was a question that my great nephew posed recently. My sister deferred to me for an answer. I confess that I was stumped. In over 50 years of teaching Sunday School and Religious Education and over 30 years of preaching, no one has ever wondered (aloud) what happened to the gifts of the magi. Scholars have pondered over the number of the magi (we know there were three gifts, but not how many magi there were) and have speculated on their role in Matthew’s story. Song writers have given meaning to the gifts and names to three magi, but to date I do not recall anyone wondering what happened to the gifts.  

The magi are exotic and unfamiliar.  They appear only in the account of the birth of Jesus but are never mentioned again.  There are tantalisingly few details to the story. We know almost nothing about these three strangers, where they came from, whether they knew each other before their journey, or why they noticed the star (when no one else appeared to see it). We are not told how they got to Jerusalem, and then to Bethlehem.  Did they travel by foot, by donkey or by camel?  Not knowing from where they came, we do not know whether or where they stopped on the way. We assume they were well off because they have treasure chests, but we have no idea how well off. If they were wealthy, did they arrive with a retinue of servants and if so, were there places in ancient that could accommodate large numbers of important guests?

The magi capture our imagination simply because they are mysterious. They have access to secret knowledge, they not only notice, but they understand the meaning of a new star in the sky, and they are in possession of treasure chests of rare and wonderous gifts – gold, frankincense and myrrh. They appear out of nowhere and then disappear out of view. 

It is only Matthew who mentions the magi and the star, and he tells us only what he wants us to know.  We want to know so much more. Instead of trying to understand Matthew’s purpose in including the magi in the story, we are tempted to focus on the details – the missing details. In art and song, theology and story we have named three of the magi – Caspar, Melchior, Balthasar – have given them countries of origin – Arabia, Persia and India and have built legends around them. Matthew’s expression “magi” (Gk magous), meaning wise man or magician can make us uncomfortable. So based on Old Testament texts like those we’ve read this morning, we are tempted to call them kings. Alternatively, we try to give definition to the notion of “wise men” – suggesting that they were astrologers, philosophers, students of the mysterious, or the intellectuals and scientists of their times. 

The truth is that we do not know any more than Matthew chooses to tell us and Matthew tells us only what he wants us to know. Matthew did not envisage that his magi would delight his readers to the point that they would build myths around them. Matthew’s intention was that the magi, and their visit to the Christ child would (rather like the star) point us to the deeper meaning of their presence in the story. If we focus on why the magi are part of the story, we will see that that they play a number of roles, roles that both inform and challenge our faith.

In no particular order: 

  1. The magi study the scriptures and pay attention to the changes in the world around them. They discern that a change in the heavens suggests that the divine is at work in the world.
  2. The magi are open to God’s action in the world and do not limit their understanding of God to a narrow, formulaic, static vision of the divine. They see the possibility that God might be known in ways they have not yet experienced or thought of. 
  3. The magi have the courage to step out of their comfort zone, to take risks of faith, to follow a sign even though they do not know where it will lead.
  4. The magi pay attention to the voice of the divine communicating through a dream. 
  5. The magi contribute to Matthew’s desire to demonstrate that Jesus is the fulfilment of prophecy; “so it has been written by the prophet” he claims of Jesus’ birth in Bethlehem.
  6. The magi introduce Matthew’s intention to defend the inclusion of the Gentiles in the emerging church. (Even though he will have Jesus say to the disciples: “Go only to the lost sheep of Israel.”) In this, the most Jewish of the gospels, Matthew begins and ends with those outside the fold. Here at the beginning, these non-Jewish magi seek Jesus out and pay homage to him. As the gospel concludes Jesus will send the disciples out into every nation.
  7. The magi identify Jesus as the “King of the Jews”, the title which will be given to him by Pilate on the cross. At the same time, their presence sets the scene for conflict. Another king in Palestine, however legitimate, will create divided loyalties, something that cannot be tolerated in Caesar’s Empire.
  8. The magi give to Jesus gifts that are precious and rare (and which may have the deeper meaning that have since been attributed to them.)

Our fascination with these mysterious and wondrous characters is intended to encourage us to delve deeper – not to be distracted by creating legends – filling in the gaps with names, professions and countries. Our task is  to ask ourselves what purpose they serve in Matthew’s account, what they have to tell us today, and how might they challenge our own faith lives.

Do we continually study our scripture so that we might see what we have not yet seen? Have we allowed our image of God to become calcified, limited and unchanging? Has our faith become limited by creed and dogma? Can we allow ourselves to believe that just as the ancient faith of the Israelites expanded to include Gentiles, that God might yet have something new in store for us? Are we willing to take steps into the unknown, confident that God will lead us? When we see Jesus are we overwhelmed with joy?

If we answer “no” to any of those questions perhaps it is time to seek out the star and follow wherever it is that God is leading us.

Are the wise ones excluded from heaven?

January 6, 2022

Epiphany – 2022
Matthew 2:1-12
Marian Free

In the name of God whose boundless love excludes no one. Amen.

Many years ago, I attended a funeral for a former parishioner in the Parish in which I was serving. The officiant was the nephew of the deceased. All was going well (from my point of view) until the sermon. As I recall, the priest began by saying: “Now we come to the difficult part of the service where we tell the family that their loved one hasn’t made it.” He went on to clarify that of course his uncle had made it. I was horrified and it was all that I could do to remain in my seat. The thought that anyone would be so insensitive to make such an announcement when a grieving family were saying their last goodbyes seemed appalling to me. In retrospect, the thought that any human could put themselves in the position of God and determine whether or not another person was fit for heaven was/is pure arrogance.

I realised very quickly that not many of the congregation shared my misgivings. One after another members of that parish expressed their support for the preachers’ point of view. They said things like: “He was telling it like it is.”

More recently I attended a funeral at which the partner of the deceased used the eulogy to warn those present that now was the time to “accept the Lord” and not to leave it too late as the deceased had done! This was a very different Parish and, on this occasion, only those from outside nodded their heads in agreement. Parishioners were as bemused as myself at such sentiments.

Now, of course, I am in danger of being just as judgmental as those whose faith leads them to hold these views so let me clarify. Many such believers are warm and loving – even inclusive. Where they largely differ from myself is their firm belief that there are clear guidelines that determine entrance to heaven and that deviance from same is a ticket to hell (however they understand hell). So sure are they of their belief that they are determined to keep others from eternal punishment and apparently the captive audience at a funeral is seen as a good opportunity to spread the message and protect their friends from harm.

It is clear from my remarks that I am not among those Christians who firmly believe that unless a person explicitly accepts Jesus as “their Lord and Saviour” that they will go to hell. I cannot associate a God who dared to enter an imperfect and undeserving world, and who mixed with sinners and outcasts with a God who then draws a rigid line between those whom God loves and those deemed not worthy of God’s love. How, I wonder, could a God who endured the agony of the cross not love all those for whom God died? How could a God who shared human frailty and wretchedness devise eternal punishment for those who do not live up to a particular standard, or who had the misfortune never to have come within the embrace of God’s inclusive love?

True there is conflicting evidence – in both Testaments. It is relatively easy to find texts to support view of a God who judges, punishes and condemns, but it is just as easy to find evidence of a God who loves and loves and loves and forgives and forgives and forgives. In the first creation story God creates humankind and declares it to be very good. When Israel turns to other gods, God, in the prophet Hosea declares: “How can I give you up?” Over and over again in the First Testament, God relents and refuses to abandon an Israel that continually strays from the worship of the one true God. In the gospels we have so many examples of God’s forgiving love. The parable of lost sheep tells us of a shepherd who goes after the sheep who has strayed and holds a party when the miscreant is found. Jesus tells us that sinners will enter heaven before us, assures the thief on the cross of his place in paradise and from the cross forgives those who have put him there. Jesus’ refusal to exclude anyone from his circle is surely evidence that neither does God exclude anyone.

These thoughts came to me as I was pondering Epiphany which falls today. It occurred to me that the story of the wise ones is one of the most telling examples of God’s inclusivity – whether or not one has “accepted Jesus as Lord and Saviour”. Matthew tells us of strangers from the east whose origin and faith (if they have one) we do not know. To be sure they bow before the infant Jesus (the King of the Jews), but then they return home to their own ways and their own faiths. There is no indication that they recognise Jesus as the Saviour of the world, and no possibility that they could have been converted by the teachings of Jesus (Jesus having not yet uttered more than a cry). Are these wise ones, so central to our Nativity story forever condemned to hell because they did not identify Jesus as Lord? I’d like to think not.

In my lifetime I have come to realise that there are many ways in which to know and encounter Christ (God Incarnate) in the world. I firmly believe that anyone who has truly experienced the all-embracing, all-forgiving, ever-loving God, will find it hard to turn away. I am also convinced that the Good Shepherd who searches out the sheep will continue to search until we are all embraced and held by God’s unconditional (albeit underserved love).

Before we determine what God does and does not demand and whom God does and does not love, let us all look to ourselves and our own unworthiness to receive God’s love and having done that, never begrudge the extension of that love to others – deserving or not.

Including the outsider

January 2, 2021

Epiphany – 2021

Matthew 2:1-12

Marian Free

May I speak in the name of God, Earth-Maker, Pain-Bearer, Life-Giver. Amen.

Teaching religious education in schools can be a challenge. One can no longer be sure of a w welcome and the children can be resentful because some of their classmates have permission not to be there. Some parents, while sending their children to classes, have nevertheless passed on a negative attitude towards religion. Even in a simpler time, children of a certain age would begin to ask questions – usually about the first two chapters of Genesis. In a class of nine-year olds, one could almost predict that as soon as the class became confident enough one child would ask: “Miss, what about the dinosaurs?” and another would pipe up with: “How can the whole world come from just two people?” In one sense, the answers are easy, but the trick, as I see it, is to answer the questions with integrity and in such a way that the children do not dismiss the whole bible and therefore the Christian faith. 

My solution was this. I would tell the class one of Aesop’s fables, usually the one about the hare and the tortoise[1] or of the lion and the mouse[2]. Then I would ask the children whether or not story was true. More often than not the children – wanting to please me – would say that the story is true. This would lead to more discussion as to whether or not animals can actually speak. Once we’ve sorted that out, I would ask if the story tells us something that is true to which the children respond that yes it does.

This makes it easy to explain that the bible tells us truths even if not all of it is historically factual. It means too that, having learned that one part of the bible is more story than fact, the children don’t reject the whole bible as just a story.

For centuries no one saw any need to argue for the veracity of every part of the bible. In fact, for centuries the bible was plumbed as much for its deeper, symbolic meaning as it was to pin down times and facts. The writers themselves were not concerned with being 100% historically accurate, but freely employed symbolism and used a variety rhetorical techniques to get our attention and to ensure that they got their message across. 

Ancient cultures, including that of the Mediterranean people, have “a very porous boundary line between reality and appearance, fact and impressions”[3]. Events are remembered as much for their meaning as for any other reason. 

No one can say for sure that the visit of the magi was an historic event, but that is not the essential point. The author of Matthew would no doubt have been utterly amazed for example, at the effort that has gone into identifying the star – including associating it with the alignment of Jupiter and Saturn that we witnessed recently. Matthew’s purpose here is to demonstrate Jesus’ place within Judaism and his role as the light to the Gentiles.

Historic fact or not, Matthew draws on a number of Old Testament allusions in his retelling. In Numbers 24 – the oracle of Balaam – we find all the elements in the account of the magi – the star, the journey to and from Egypt, the escape from a violent ruler and the vocation to be a light to the Gentiles. These same elements, as Matthew well knew, also provided an overarching view of Israel’s history – the centre of which was the liberation from Egypt. References to Bethlehem and quotes from the prophets further underline the significance of the child as does the prophetic hope for a ruler who will shepherd God’s people. The gifts from the travellers remind the listener of Psalm 72 in which the kings of Seba and Sheba offer gifts of gold to Israel’s king.  

If we had read on, we would have seen how Matthew further situates Jesus in the story of Israel when Joseph takes refuge in Egypt and brings Jesus out again.

For the early readers of this gospel, the account of the magi would have been redolent with meaning and would have placed Jesus in the centre of their story – but there is a twist. Israel’s story is not for them alone – it always looks outward and this is the case here. If we read the whole gospel in one sitting, as the author intended, we would at this point be remembering Matthew’s genealogy which takes Jesus all the way back to Abraham – the Gentile who became the father of the Jews and to whom God made a promise that all the nations in the world would find a blessing in him. 

In these first two chapters, not only does Matthew establish Jesus’ credentials as a Jewish saviour he also makes it quite clear that Jesus is also one who was promised as a light to the Gentiles. The magi, astrologers from the east, are the bridge between God’s promises to Israel and God’s initial promise to Abraham. They are the first clue, in this very Jewish gospel that faith in Jesus is not exclusive but is open people from every nation.

The inclusiveness of the gospel has often been lost on us. We the Gentile inheritors of Judaism forget that we began as the outsiders. Throughout the centuries we, the church, have instead taken it upon ourselves to decide who is in and who is out. We have made such decisions on the basis of people’s behaviour without having any regard for the depth or expression of their faith.

Jesus may indeed have received extraordinary visitors in his early years but let us not allow our wonder at the mystery of the story blind us to its deeper meaning that it is those without any connection to the historic faith who are the first to bow their knees to the child Jesus. In our day, the faith of those whom we have chosen to exclude may put our own to shame.


[1] http://read.gov/aesop/025.html

[2] http://read.gov/aesop/007.html

[3] Dennis Hamm, SJ, https://liturgy.slu.edu/EpiphanyB010321/theword_hamm.html (I am indebted to Dennis Hamm for other elements of this text.

Authentic leadership

January 4, 2020

Epiphany – 2020
Matthew 2:1-12
Marian Free

In the name of God who calls us to trust God so that we can trust ourselves. Amen.

It all began at least 30 years ago when a friend gave me a Christmas card featuring the wise ones or the magi. “I chose it,” she said, “because the figures look like women.” Since then I have built up a small collection of Christmas cards and quotes featuring wise women – most of them humorous. One pictures three women mounted on camels bearing gifts of disposable nappies, a book on childcare and a voucher for a well-known baby store. A second has a stream of women stretching out into the distance. The caption reads, “Three wise men, 3,675,493 wise women.” Another reads, “Three Wise Women would have asked directions, arrived on time, helped deliver the baby, swept the stable, made a casserole and brought practical gifts.”

While I enjoyed the humour on the cards I thought that the idea of wise women was an invention, or an aspiration of the women’s movement. It was when I was researching today’s sermon that I came across an article that suggested that women would have been in the caravan that sought out the ‘King of the Jews’. This led me to explore the matter further. It appears that there is good reason to believe that women might have been among those who came to worship Jesus. The “magi” (for that is the word in the Greek text) would probably have come from Persia or modern-day Iran. They were followers of Zoroastrianism – a faith system that is now in decline, but which was one of the precursors of Islam. Zoroastrian priests were well known for telling fortunes and preparing daily horoscopes and they believed that they could foretell miraculous births by reading the stars .Zoroastrianism allowed women to serve priests and women often travelled with their male counterparts . Indeed, the Old Testament precursor of this story is that of the Queen of Sheba who travelled from Ethiopia to see King Solomon bearing gifts fit for a King. It is not beyond the realms of possibility that women would have been among the magi.

The problem with Matthew’s all too brief account is that while he tells us that there were three gifts (the Queen of Sheba brought gold and spices), he does not specify how many magi there were, whether they were male or female or tell us that they were kings. That there were three, and that they were kings is our imaginative interpretation. Indeed, the word “magoi”, like the word “parent” can be used for either gender and the tradition that there were three derives from the number of gifts presented.

As long ago as 2004, the General Synod of the Church of England voted to retain Matthew’s word ‘magi’ rather than translate it with a word (or words) that were more easily understood. The argument for this was two-fold. The use of the translation “magi” was truer to Matthew’s intention. It retains the exotic nature of Jesus’ visitors and, as the word is inclusive, it allowed for the possibility that women were present.

Of course, it doesn’t really matter who the magi were, where they came from or how many there were. The significance of their brief appearance lies not so much in the mystery but in the dramatic tension their presence creates and the stark contrast between their reaction to the birth and that of Herod. Herod was not a legitimate king of the Jews, but one appointed by the despised Romans. For this and other reasons, he was held in low esteem by the majority of the Judeans. He was not even a Jew and was so insecure that he did not hesitate to put to death members of his own family if he thought that they might present competition for the throne. It is little wonder that when Herod heard of Jesus’ birth he was not filled with delight and anticipation, but with terror and a desire to crush or remove the threat that Jesus signified. It was not only Herod who was troubled. Everyone who depended on him for their wealth and position (“all Jerusalem” in fact) shared his concern and recognized the potential for disruption that an alternate king represented.

In contrast to Herod, the response of the magi was one of curiosity, reverence and awe. They did not seek to destroy the child; but travelled a great distance to worship him. Their authority and sense of self did not depend on external affirmation or legitimation. They knew who they were and were confident of their place in the world. As a result, the magi were comfortable in their own skin, they did not need to stand on ceremony, nor did they need to defend or protect their position and they were not threatened by competition (perceived or real). Their position in the world was not dependent on anyone else and it was not altered or compromised when they knelt and worshipped Jesus. In fact, their status was enhanced and amplified by their humility.

As such, the magi pre-figured the person that Jesus would be. Jesus would be a king who did not need to prove himself by competing with or destroying those who opposed him. He would be self-assured, certain of who he was and of his place in the world. He would not need others to legitimize him and he would not be easily upset by his enemies. Jesus would not be driven by fear to protect his position – or even his life – and his place in the universe would not be diminished by his humility let alone by his submission to death on the cross.

In contrast to Herod, the magi were confident of their place in the world, they did not depend on external legitimation or affirmation and were not threatened by competition.We live in a world in which there is an increasing sense of insecurity and an increasing reliance on leaders who are authoritarian and who disparage or demean any who dare to criticize or challenge them.

The magi were clear where true authority lay, may we have their self-assurance, their humility and their wisdom and that we will always chose the authentic over the showy, the secure over the insecure and those who choose to serve over those who are determined to dominate.

 

 

 

Loyalty to God alone

January 5, 2019

Epiphany – 2019

Matthew 2:1-12

Marian Free

In the name of God who holds all people in God’s embrace and longs only that they allow themselves to be held. Amen.

Last week there were shepherds and a stable. This week there are kings and a house . The differences between Luke’s account of Jesus’ birth and that of Matthew are striking and tell us something about the perspective of the authors. Luke, as we shall see throughout this year, emphasizes Jesus’ concern for and identification with the poor and the marginalised. No room can be found to house the pregnant Mary and the only visitors are shepherds (the lowest rung of the social ladder). Luke’s shepherds bring no gifts. The author of Matthew has different interests. He is more concerned with the fulfillment of prophesy and with Jesus’ place within Judaism. In Matthew Jesus’ visitors are respected Magi – of such significant rank that they receive an audience with King Herod and they present the child with rich gifts. Matthew makes it clear that this is no ordinary child but a king. The Magi go to the palace to ask Herod where they can find ‘the King of the Jews’ and Herod’s grip on power is so tenuous that the thought that there might be competition fills him with terror.

In the context of today’s gospel, it is interesting to note the contradiction between, but also within the two accounts of Jesus’ life – especially in relation to the inclusion of those who were not Jewish by birth. Luke’s gospel makes it clear that faith in Jesus is open to those outside the Jewish faith – the Gentiles. For example, in both the parable of the Good Samaritan and in the account of the ten lepers, it is a despised Samaritan whose behaviour shows up that of Jesus’ own people. In contrast, Matthew appears to believe that faith in Jesus is a logical – indeed foretold – continuation of Judaism. Matthew emphasises the Jewish law and the keeping of that law which, of course, is only relevant if you are Jewish. It is only in Matthew’s gospel that Jesus instructs the disciples to “go only to the lost sheep of Israel.”

At the same, even though Luke’s gospel is much more inclusive of non-Jews, the author is at pains to establish Jesus’ Jewish heritage and the devoutness of Jesus’ parents. Luke’s gospel both begins and ends in the Temple – the centre of Jewish religious practice. Matthew, whose gospel appears to exclude non-Jewish believers, both begins and ends in a way that implies the inclusion of Gentiles. Here at the very beginning of the story, it is the non-Jewish Magi who not only recognize Jesus but worship him – while the Jewish authorities (represented by Herod and the priests) and terrified of his existence. At the conclusion of Matthew’s gospel Jesus insists that the disciples “make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit”. Matthew’s very Jewish Gospel is opened wide to all people

Both gospels, but that of Matthew in particular, reflect a contradiction that exists already in Judaism. From the time of Abraham onwards, the religion of the Hebrews was unique in that it promoted belief in one God who had a special and exclusive relationship with God’s chosen people – Israel. The children of Abraham were a people set apart for God and who had, in response, to set themselves apart from the nations around them – nations who believed in multiple gods and whose practices did not match the high standards that God expected of those whom God had set aside as God’s own. In order to ensure that the Israelites did not become contaminated by those who did not belong, God gave very clear instructions including ordering the genocide of the inhabitants of the Promised Land and a directive that the children of Abraham were not to marry men or women of different ethnic backgrounds.

Despite this, despite God’s obvious preference for Israel, there is a thread that runs through the Old Testament that makes it clear both that the relationship between God and God’s people is not entirely exclusive and that in the future all nations will worship the God of Israel. To give just two examples – the book of Ruth informs us that Ruth, a Gentile, is to become the forbear of David – Israel’s most beloved king and in turn the forbear of Jesus. The book of Jonah makes it quite clear that God has compassion on the Gentile Ninevites and will not destroy them if they acknowledge their fault. In more than one place we are informed that there will be a time when all nations will stream into Jerusalem to offer worship to God.

These contradictions, which continue in the New Testament, remind us that God, who is the creator of all, and the God above all Gods is a jealous God who demands absolute loyalty and insists that God’s people set themselves apart as God’s holy people yet at the same time is the God of every nation who cares for and longs to include all of humanity in God’s embrace.

The visit of the Magi to Jesus cautions us not to think too highly of ourselves in comparison with others. It was outsiders who saw the signs, those who did not belong who sought out Israel’s king and those who belonged to a very different faith who fell down and worshipped the infant Jesus. The people who should have been alert to the signs, the people whose king had come to birth and who should have been first to offer homage had stopped expecting a king. They took for granted their status as the people of God and had accommodated themselves to their situation as servants of Rome. Jesus was seen, not as a king to be welcomed, but as a threat who needed to be destroyed because he would expose the compromises they had made and return power to God and not the Empire.

May the visit of the Magi remind us that we should never be complacent and self-satisfied about our place in the kingdom, that we should always be alert to the signs of God’s presence and that we should not be in the all to the powers and values of this world but remember that our first and only loyalty is to God and to God alone.

What is God asking you to do?

December 23, 2017

Advent 4 – 2017 

Luke 1:28-38

Marian Free

 In the name of God for whom nothing is impossible. Amen.

 If you read the beginnings of the four gospels, you will notice some substantial differences. For example, Mark launches straight into an account of Jesus’ ministry: “The beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ.” Mark is not interested in where Jesus has come from, but only in what he has done and what it means for those who believe. The gospel attributed to John is cosmic in breadth and poetic in expression. Jesus is identified as the Word who coexisted with God from the beginning of time and who, in fact, is God. The author of John’s gospel is not interested in Jesus’ earthly birth and childhood, only in his divine origin.

If we want to discover anything about Jesus’ human history, we have to rely on the gospels of Matthew and Luke. Unfortunately they are not reliable sources. Their accounts of Jesus’ birth have at least as many differences as they have similarities. Luke has much more detail than Matthew making his account nearly twice as long. Even the style is different. Luke’s is rather like an overture to an opera, two of the main characters burst into song. Matthew’s account is more sedate and includes to fewer details.

In Matthew’s gospel, Joseph, not Mary plays the central role. It is to Joseph that the angel appears and it is Joseph who is informed that the child is to be called Jesus (because he will save his people from their sins). Joseph makes no protest and asks no questions, but simply does as the angel has commanded. There is no census, no crowded city and no manger. We are simply informed that Joseph formally married Mary and that he didn’t consummate the marriage until after the birth of the infant. We are to assume from this that Joseph and Mary were already in Bethlehem. (Jesus only goes to Nazareth because after Joseph and Mary flee to Egypt they learn that it will not be safe to return to Bethlehem.)

Joseph plays only a supporting role in Luke’s version of events. In fact, we are half way through the story before Joseph appears and then he is only mentioned as the means by which Mary gets from Nazareth to Bethlehem. Mary takes centre stage here. The angel (named) appears to Mary (in person, not in a dream) and tells her that she is favoured in God’s sight. Mary is informed that she will bear a son who will reign over the house of Jacob forever. Unlike Joseph who simply accepts the angles word and responds immediately, Mary reasons with the angel (reasoned is a better translation than “pondered”), and she challenges him: “How can this be?” It is only when the angel reminds Mary that nothing is impossible with God that Mary acquiesces to God’s plan.

After Jesus’ birth, the gospel writers again present two quite different scenarios. According to Matthew the magi come from the east following a star and bringing exotic gifts. From the way in which Matthew tells the story, we can infer that Bethlehem was Mary and Joseph’s hometown. And from Herod’s over reaction we can guess that by then Jesus was about two years old. In place of the magi Luke records the appearance of the angels to the shepherds who visit the newly born Jesus in the stable.

Both Matthew and Luke are determined to show that Jesus didn’t simply emerge from nowhere. They make it clear that from his birth Jesus was set apart as God’s anointed. Not surprisingly, the way in which the gospel writers tell the story reflects their different interests and different audiences. Matthew wants to make it clear to his readers that Jesus fulfills the Old Testament promises. He also wants to demonstrate that the new community of faith is the true Israel. Those who believe in Jesus cannot be considered a breakaway sect because they exist in continuity with all that has gone before. In Matthew’s account, Joseph has dreams as does his namesake in Genesis, Mary’s pregnancy and the gifts brought by the magi fulfill events predicted by Isaiah and Bethlehem is the place where according the Old Testament, the King of Jews, God’s anointed one was to be born.

Whereas Matthew is writing for an audience that is primarily Jewish, Luke is writing to a largely Gentile readership. Luke’s audience knows that they are not Israel – new or otherwise. They are more interested in the power of the God revealed in Jesus and through the Holy Spirit. This God, Luke tells them, can achieve the impossible and can create something out of nothing. Other characteristics of the Lukan author are evident in his account of Jesus’ birth – his interest in contextualizing the story against the events of the time, and his concern with the poor. It is important for Luke to ground Jesus in the history of the time, so (even though he gets both the date and the ruler wrong, Luke connects the birth of Jesus with the census ordered by Quirinius in 6CE). Mary’s hymn affirms that the “God has brought down the powerful from their thrones, and lifted up the lowly; he has filled the hungry with good things, and sent the rich away empty”. It is uneducated shepherds with no resources who are the first to worship the infant Jesus.

All of this is interesting and we could spend much more time examining the differences between all four gospels and exploring the reasons why they emphasise different aspects of the beginning of Jesus’ story. But these are not quaint stories written so that we can exercise our brain. They are stories of faith and as such they continue to speak to and challenge us today.

Joseph and Mary are ordinary people going about their ordinary business when an angel bursts into their lives and demands that they trust God and that they join God in a grand and costly adventure. The response of Mary and Joseph force us to consider:

Is our relationship with God deep enough and intimate enough that we are able to recognise the voice of God when God speaks to us?

And if we do hear:

Is our trust in God strong enough and confident enough that we are able to believe that God will empower us with the courage and skills we need when God asks us to do the seemingly impossible?

And if we do trust:

Is our faith robust enough and important enough to us that we are comfortable with the idea of taking risks and not worrying what others might say about us?

In their different ways, Mary and Joseph answered God’s call to bring Jesus to birth. Are we paying attention, are we aware of God’s presence and if so, are we ready and willing to respond to God’s call?

The child who terrified a king

December 31, 2016

Epiphany – 2017

Matthew 2:1-12

Marian Free

In the name of God, whose Son proclaims a kingdom that threatens to shake and disturb the world as it is so that it might become the world as it is meant to be. Amen.

In July 2016 a massive 41,000 people were arrested in Turkey – 41,000. These included police officers, members of the armed forces and public service as well as a number of members of the judiciary. Their crime? – suspected involvement in the failed coup against President Recep Erdogan. The response to the attempted coup was swift. Any real or imagined opposition was quickly silenced and any future unrest deterred by the speedy and thorough suppression of real or potential opponents. Those who were arrested face anywhere from fifteen years to life in prison, though who knows how or when the legal system will manage such a huge number of trials.

The situation is Turkey is far from unique. The so-called Arab Spring has come at a huge cost to many and in most cases there is little to show for a movement that began with so much hope and idealism. In Egypt for example, a change in government has not really achieved the dreams of those who risked their lives for a better state of affairs. Unrest in Syria five long years ago was brutally suppressed and the reaction of the government then has led to the nightmare that is Syria today. In nations that are divided by race or class, or in nations where power is maintained by force rather than popular choice, any dissension that threatens the relative stability of the nation and is often rapidly and effectively crushed. Such action has the effect of exposing the insecurity and the paranoia of the leaders and making others think twice before they take similar action.

Gaining and maintaining power by force and by the suppression or destruction of any opposition are not new phenomena. In our own tradition, the Book of Kings recounts the story of Jehu, a commander of Ahab’s army, who not only deposed his king but who also slaughtered all seventy of Ahab’s sons to ensure that there were no legitimate claimants to the throne and no one to challenge his power. Rule that is not popular or legitimate lays itself open to resentment and opposition and is forced to use violence to maintain control.

“When King Herod heard this he was frightened and all Jerusalem with him”, so writes Matthew in today’s gospel. Herod Antipas, the son of Herod the Great, was a tetrarch appointed by the Emperor. His father had made some good political choices and as a result was given the title of King and responsibility for Judea but you only have to see the fortress at Masada to understand that Herod the Great did not feel at all secure in his role. He needed to bolster his power by force and to protect himself from any who might seek to take his throne. His son, Herod Antipas was even less secure. He was utterly dependent on Rome for his position and was resented by the Jews because he was not one of them.

It is no surprise then that Herod and all Jerusalem trembled when the magi enquired: “where is the child who has been born King of the Jews”? Herod was the King of the Jews. A competing (and perhaps legitimate) King would deepen the resentment towards Herod and had the potential to lead to an uprising against him. A King of the Jews would be able to gather support not only from those who longed to liberate the land from Roman rule, but also from pious Jews who were hoping that one day God would provide an heir to King David to rule over them.

Herod had every reason to fear and he did what many before and since have done – he sought to destroy the child who posed a threat to his grasp on power.

The story of the magi, coming as it does on the heels of Christmas brings us up with a shock. It is hard to hold on to sentimental images of mother and child, of peace and joy when we are confronted by the harsh political reality of this birth. In order to hold on to his power and position Herod has to destroy Jesus – an innocent child who, we might think, is no threat at all. Jesus is God’s son, sent by God for the salvation of all. This infant is not a political or military threat. There is no political party or group of agitators who have been holding out for a figurehead to consolidate their followers or to lead their cause. Besides, any discontent is easily crushed by the superior might of Rome.

Jesus is only a child, a child who, we are led to believe, will show the people how to reconnect with God. He will challenge them to turn from their sin so that they are ready to enter the kingdom of heaven. Matthew’s telling of the story undermines this irenic idea and confronts us with the bald truth of the situation. However innocent the child, however noble Jesus’ purpose, it is clear that he has come to initiate change and to question the status quo. He has come to announce an alternative rule, an alternative kingdom – the kingdom of heaven. It is of no consequence to Herod that this is a spiritual rather than a political kingdom or that Jesus wants to turn the hearts of the people to God rather than turn them against Herod. Any change, any person that draws power and attention from Herod could be considered dangerous and threatening. Any person that implicitly or otherwise challenges loyalty to himself or to the Empire could be perceived to be a danger to Herod’s tenuous hold on power. Potential for trouble must be nipped in the bud before it is allowed to get out of control. Herod cannot risk the people seeing in Jesus an alternative to his role or using the infant to form a movement against him. Herod has no option but to seek to destroy his competition.

Here at the very start of Jesus’ life Matthew makes it quite clear that Jesus is a threat to the status quo and that as a result his life is at risk. As the story continues, we will witness Jesus’ supporting and encouraging those who are alienated and disenfranchised. At the same time we will see him offending and putting off-side those in positions of power.

Herod was mistaken in one sense. Jesus did not come to seize political power, nor did he come to liberate Israel from the grip of Rome. He did come, in the words of Psalm 72: “to deliver the needy when they call, the poor and those who have no helper.  To have pity on the weak and the needy, and to save the lives of the needy. To redeem their lives from oppression and violence.” (12-14) In any time and place this is a subversive mission, one that implies that the state of the world and its institutions are not as God would wish it to be.

Matthew is right to warn us. This is no innocent baby, but a child who will shake up and challenge the world’s institutions, who will bring to light things that some would like to remain hidden and who will expose violence, injustice and oppression.

Herod was right to be terrified. If we are not willing to change and grow, if we are not prepared to get on board with Jesus’ social and political agenda, perhaps we should be terrified too.

 

Alarm bells

January 3, 2015

Epiphany – 2015

Matthew 2:1-12

Marian Free

In the name of God who is always the same and yet always challenging (alarming) those who are open to God’s presence. Amen.[1]

In a recent edition of The Christian Century I read the following story. A parish in the United States was in the habit of presenting a “live nativity pageant” – real people and real animals spread out over the expansive front lawn. It was the practice on these occasions for the magi to appear from elsewhere and to this end, those playing the role of magi put on their costumes in the hall of the local Catholic Church. One year, the enterprising participants decided to add to the mystery and drama by arriving in a cloud of incense. They borrowed a Thurible from the Catholics and set off towards their own Church having first made sure that the coals were well alight and that the incense was smoking. As they made their way to their destination, they were perturbed to hear the sirens of the fire trucks. Unbeknownst to them, they had triggered the smoke alarm in the hall and this had sent a signal to the local fire department. When the firemen finally tracked down the cause of the problem, one was heard to say: “You %#@& wise men are setting off alarms all over town!”

Our passive nativity scenes do not adequately capture the extraordinary nature of the visit of the magi – who must have seemed exotic, different and disturbing at the time. Indeed we know that not only Herod, but also all Jerusalem trembled at their presence. Over time, the magi have been stripped of their mystery and their power to disrupt our comfortable lives. Subsequent generations of believers have domesticated these magicians/astrologers. They no longer appear as figures who are strange and disquieting. These days they are more often referred to as kings or as wise men rather than as magicians. Their number has been determined and history has given them names and nationalities – even to the point of guessing the colour of their skin.

The text however is clear. These men – whose origin, nationality and number are unknown to us – were men who studied the sky and interpreted the movements of the stars and the planets. (Today we – good Christians that we are – might shun them as proponents of astrology, people who believe that they not God can look into the future.) Yet it is heir study of the sky is the reason that they (and apparently no one else) have noticed the star and guessed at its meaning. Even Herod, the chief priests and the scribes appear not to have noticed this phenomenon or, if they had, they had not realised its significance. No wonder the presence of the magi set alarm bells ringing.

What was the cause for alarm? First century Jerusalem was a cosmopolitan city. Successive invasions would have ensured that many cultures were represented in the city. The Pax Romana ensured that roads were safe to travel and merchants and others were, as a consequence, quite mobile. Apart from this people (not only Jews) from all over the Empire would have come to worship at the Temple. The city would not have been without its fortune-tellers, healers and miracle workers. From this vantage point, the magi might have looked like any other visitors to the city. Added to this, Matthew implies that their presence should not have been unexpected. The Old Testament bears witness in many places to an expectation that when God restored the fortunes of Israel, “all the nations” would stream to Jerusalem to worship God.

The thing that makes these particular visitors so disturbing is that it is they, not the leaders of Israel have understood the importance of the star and of the birth of the child. Unlike the Israelites who are shown to be ignorant of and then indifferent to the presence of Jesus among them, the magi recognise what is going on and have come from a distance to worship the child.

From this vantage point, their presence is disturbing – indeed alarming. Their part in the story of Jesus’ birth indicates that God is doing something radically different and unexpected. That is, God is giving the Gentiles a prominent place in the unfolding story of the people of God. The identification by the magi of Jesus as the Christ implies that from now on everything is going to be different – as indeed it turns out to be. As Paul’s letters reveal, one of the most confronting and difficult issues for the emerging church was this: “what is the place of the Gentiles and how much should our traditions and practices change so that they can be included?”

For us, the magi provide a romantic element to the accounts of Jesus’ nativity, but “King Herod was troubled and all Jerusalem with him.” Not only did the birth of the King of the Jews threaten Herod’s position and the peace and stability of Jerusalem, but it also shattered the expectations about how God would act and threw open previously unthought-of possibilities with regard to God and God’s relationship with the world.

In life, but more particularly in faith, most of us become comfortable with the way things are. We tend to think that because God has acted in a particular way in the past, God will continue to behave in that way in the future. In so doing, we make God a servant of our expectations; we place boundaries on the way that we think God will act and we blind ourselves to God’s intervention in our lives and in the world. God is not and cannot be a slave to our expectations.

Matthew’s account of the magi raises important questions: Do we want to keep things the same or are we willing to allow our world-view to be shaken and tossed upside down by God’s once more breaking through our complacency and entering into our world. When the alarm bells ring – do we look to immediately extinguish the flames or do we ask ourselves whether God is saying something new and radical, challenging us to move in new directions and to open our eyes to new possibilities? And do we have the courage to accept the change that that involves?

[1] (With thanks to Thomas Long (Christian Century) Blogging Towards Sunday, Epiphany, 2015, 2014.

Who is in and who is out?

January 4, 2014

Epiphany 2014

Matthew 2:1-12

Marian Free

In the name of God, whose love knows no bounds and creates no boundaries for those who would love God in return. Amen.

I imagine that many of you have seen the movie My Big Fat Greek Wedding. It is a wonderful, light-hearted look at a family of Greek migrants in the United States. Like many migrants, they have formed their own sub-community and have done what they can to maintain their culture in a new and strange land. One of the ways in which this extended family can ensure that their traditions are maintained is to insist that their offspring marry someone of Greek descent who will be like them. The movie follows a young woman, her desire to build her own life and to marry the American man with whom she has fallen in love. We watch in agony as her Father parades a number of less-than-attractive but suitable Greek men before he is persuaded to give in and allow her to marry the man of her choice. Along the way we observe the difficulties of two different cultures coming to grips with each other and the migrants letting go of their rigid insistence on remaining apart.

 Of course, the movie is an exaggeration but I grew up in a Brisbane in which recent Mediterranean migrants mostly lived in West End with others who shared their language and ate their food. The supermarket in that suburb was stocked with huge tins of olive oil and the fruit shops introduced us to exotic vegetables like zucchini (which as a child I could have well done without)!

It is human nature to seek out those who support and encourage us, to find those with whom we have something in common, to mix with those who share our background, language and history. Migrants in particular often form communities in the new countries in which they find themselves. Living close to those who have shared their past and their journey to another world provides a sense of continuity, makes the present less strange and makes it easier to practice one’s faith, to cook the foods one is used to and to speak a familiar language and be understood. 

From what we can glean from the New Testament Judaism, in the first century at least, had very clear boundaries and cultural identifiers. According to Matthew’s Gospel, Jesus claimed to have come for “the lost sheep of Israel”, and all the Gospels make a clear distinction between those who are Jews and those who are not. Paul’s letters to the Romans and Galatians indicate just how strong Jewish ethnic boundaries were and how effective they had been in keeping others out. These included adherence to the law – including dietary regulations and purity laws – the circumcision of every male and belief in the one God.

These borders appear to have been fiercely guarded. Outsiders who admired and practiced the faith usually only obtained the status of “God-fearers” and were never fully included as members of “God’s chosen people”.

It is difficult to know if this was always the case, but almost certainly the experience of the exile (500 years before Jesus), would have served to define and harden national identity. It would make sense that those living in exile in Babylon would have placed an emphasis on those characteristics that distinguished them from the culture around them. (We see in the Book of Daniel a description of how some people responded to living in a culture vastly different from their own. In the face of great opposition, and at the risk of his life, Daniel holds fast to his identity and refuses to compromise his beliefs and the practices associated with his faith.)

When the exiles return home they have a clearer vision of who they are, but it is not long before they are again under foreign rule – this time in their own land. By the time that Jesus is born, Palestine has been ruled by foreign powers for over three hundred years. It would be reasonable to suppose that this too created a need for them to preserve their unique identity, to stress their distinctiveness and so claim their place in the world. Those who had left Palestine and settled in other parts of the Empire may (like today’s migrants) have drawn in on themselves and stressed the importance of the things that made them different from the world around them.

For Christians reading the Old Testament, the exclusiveness of first century Judaism is harder to understand. Books like the book of Ruth and Jonah tell, in different ways, the story of God’s concern for and desire to include every nation in the covenant that God made with Abraham. Ruth is a Moabite (non-Jewish) woman who becomes the forebear of David and therefore of the expected Saviour. Jonah’s task is to warn the Ninevites (non-Jews) of God’s wrath and to urge them to repent. According to the Book of Kings, the Queen of Sheba travels to meet King Solomon, to pay homage and to listen to his wisdom and according to the prophet Isaiah, Cyrus, the Persian King is God’s anointed or Messiah. In more than one Psalm, the author sees a time when the whole world will stream to Jerusalem. As we read the Old Testament, it seems clear that God’s intention was always to include the Gentiles.

 By the first century, possibly because the Jewish people were feeling so embattled, they had not only drawn clear lines around themselves but, from what we can tell, they had come to the conclusion that a Jewish Saviour would only save the Jews – or those who were prepared to become Jews. This created a dilemma for the early believers. Many Gentiles had come to faith in Jesus just as they had and what is more, they too had received the gift of the Holy Spirit as a result of that faith. Could they be excluded from membership in this new community simply because they were not Jews by birth? The answer was “no”. Both Acts and the letter to the Galatians tell us that the issue was resolved at a council held in Jerusalem. Rather than be compelled to become Jews, Gentile converts were required only to observe a minimum number of practices in order to belong.

A different dilemma faced the Gospel writers who, some twenty years later, had to confront the reality that Jesus, the Jewish Saviour, had made a greater impact on the Gentiles than he had on the Jews. In order to resolve this puzzle, it was important that they discover and record the evidence that Jesus’ ministry clearly demonstrated an intention to include the Gentiles. In the Gospels there are accounts of Jesus commending Gentiles who exhibit more faith than the Jews, of a Canaanite woman who argues that her daughter deserves to be healed, Jesus’ command to make disciples of all nations and his promise that the disciples will receive the Holy Spirit and be his witnesses to the ends of the earth.

It is in this context that we are to understand Matthew’s account of the coming of the Magi. The author of Matthew, whom we believe was writing for a primarily Jewish community, needed to make it clear that right from the very beginning of the story, Jesus was recognised and worshipped by Gentiles. Furthermore, these magicians – astrologers or scholars – were no ordinary people, but, like the Queen of Sheba who visited Solomon, they were people of significance and wealth who come to pay homage to a Jewish Saviour. In this way the author of Matthew establishes that, from his infancy, Jesus was identified as the Saviour not only of the Jews but of the whole world. The implication being that if Jesus is the Saviour of the world, then those who are not Jews by birth or practice can and should be included in the worshipping community. Anyone who has faith in Jesus can belong.

It is always a mistake to try to second-guess God, to believe that we can determine who is in and who is out, who to include and who to exclude. If we are rigid and exclusive, if we insist that only those who behave in a certain way can belong, we are in danger of drawing our boundaries too close and of failing to see what God is doing in the world.

Who do we exclude and why? If anyone who has faith can belong, who are we to decide who is in and who is out?